Box of Memories
by Mered
Summary: Seventy-five years is a long time, things are often forgotten, but the past is often reincarnated in the future, and all from a single dusty box.


_Authors Note: _I really shouldn't be writing this; I've done many similar, this was a "get your brain working" one. It's short and flows awkwardly. It's okay though, I needed to write something.

**Box of Memories**

The house was restless; eyes lingered far too long on photos that hung on the walls. Young hands too curious for their own good started a train wreck that could not be avoided. The adults were sitting in the living room, the eldest one hundred and five, and the youngest in their thirties. There was juice for the kids and wine for the adults who talked amongst themselves, but were interrupted when the children skidded into the room, delight on their faces.

"Can we open this box?" one of them asked with energy burning through him. The box was an old wooden crate with an old manufacturer branded on its side; it was also starting to slowly break apart with age.

The thirty-four year old mother looked towards her parents who shrugged and eventually looked to the next generation. Eyes landed on the two oldest people in the room, Alphonse and Roy.

"Roy," Alphonse questioned, his voice hoarse with age, "do you remember what's in that box?"

The older man shook his head, "It," he coughed, "looks like it's from when you were in your teens."

Al grinned. "Years and years and years ago."

"As many years ago since I've been a Colonel."

The eldest child, fifteen years old, went to open the box and pulled out an old diary. Al frowned.

"That's familiar…" he began but the kid bubbled and began to read.

"July, 8th, 1914, Somewhere in Central…

"_Today was hell. We were on a mission and I nearly got killed _again_. I think that that Bastard Colonel's only leading us on with false leads. It's not fair, I want to restore Al's body. But you know, my secret desire? As awful as it is, as horrible, as much of a sin it would be? I think I'm in love with that stupid bastard. I haven't even told Al. You know, _Colonel Roy Mustang_, notorious womanizer. I will never have a chance, so it's best to forget about it. Long train rides are also troublesome. I just want to get Al's body back and maybe make the bastard fall in love with me._"

Silence reigned in the room for a moment before Al spoke, "My _brother's_ diary. What else is in there?"

The kid grinned, "Mission reports,"

Roy muttered to the side, "I needed those…"

"Lots of research, books, odds and ends, a silver watch, and red coat. Ohh! And leather pants, black jackets…" he dashed off only to come running back five minutes later, hair braided with an old red bow, red cloak draped over his body, and he _grinned. _

It broke Roy's heart and made Alphonse weep. It was _Edward_ all over again. Vibrant, young, strong, it was as if it was his reincarnation.

In fact, the boy had Edward's name, Alphonse's great-great-great-grandchild. Edward grinned and held up his right arm; "On a mission we go!"

And he dug back into the box, retrieving several pictures. Spreading them out, he studied them.

One was a photo of Alphonse and a smaller blonde-haired kid as children, another of them at fourteen and fifteen, then the next was a group of military officers, a handsome dark-haired man he wouldn't mind kissing in the middle grinning, and the blonde-kid glaring up at him. The next picture was of the dark-haired man and the small blonde kid. They were kissing, arms wrapped around each other, entirely blissful. The kid had automail as well.

"Who're these people?" he asked of the military men. Mustang smiled, and started to list them,

"From left to right, Kain Fuery, Vato Falman, Heymans Breda, I'm in the middle, and the blonde's Edward, then Maes Hughes, Riza Hawkeye, and Jean Havoc. The dog's Black Hayate."

"Edward?"

"Edward." Mustang confirmed. "My lover."

Alphonse was incredulous. "He _lied_ to me?"

Roy grinned as Edward waved the picture at his ancestor. "Look here!"

Al slanted a glance towards the older man. "Did Gracia take this?" he asked.

In response Roy nodded. "Yes. It was one of our last kisses."

Hands trembled. "It's been so long…"

Eyes slid closed and breaths were released. "Edward, that man, the blonde one, was my older brother. He would have been ninety-one this year were he still alive. He died at sixteen."

Suddenly the young man's eyes snapped to Roy's. "He was only _fifteen!_ My age! When he was your lover!"

"Don't forget subordinate," Al muttered.

Eyes wide, he glanced between them. "I look like _him_!"

He scampered towards his mother. "That was illegal!"

"So it was. But I loved him, and I had hoped he loved me too. We were together for so little a time…"

"Soon, I'll be with him. I made my goal, reformed the country, presided over it, and retired to being a General in the military as well as a State Alchemist. And Edward was never able to see it."

"He was," Alphonse was sure of this. "He's watching from wherever he is, and he's _grinning_."

Roy laughed, and as he looked out the window, he thought he saw Edward in the snow, red cloak waving, and golden eyes sparking with fire. He thought that he saw the wicked grin, and the cocky attitude, and the words…

Then the wind whipped through, erasing the figure, but the words echoed in Roy's mind as they had been said seventy-five years ago,

"I love you, Bastard."


End file.
